


Cup Runneth Over

by murdur



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Drunk Sex, F/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 17:04:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdur/pseuds/murdur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor's Name Day celebration turns out to be fun for (nearly) everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cup Runneth Over

**Author's Note:**

> Posted on [tumblr](http://psychoticgirl.tumblr.com/post/38344287536/here-you-go-nina-totally-random-anon-more) for an anonymous prompt requesting tent sex.
> 
> Ask and you shall receive.

Thor had made a simple request for his Name Day, wanting nothing more than to spend the day hunting with his closest companions. So into the mountains the six friends had travelled and their pursuit of a great stag had begun. 

After tracking the majestic beast through the thick wooding for hours upon end, the fatal blow was delivered by Thor and his mighty hammer (although both Sif and Hogun had chances to take the shot hours earlier). The hunting party found a clearing to set up camp, each unpacking and assembling their own personal cloth tent in a circle.

As the sun set, the group gathered around a large bonfire, dressed down into more comfortable clothing of loose fitting tunics and soft leather, to feast on the Thunderer’s kill. All were in high spirits and much merriment was had as they ate the succulent meat and drank deeply from the lager and mead that Volstagg had packed along.

Even Loki, who was known for his impeccable self-control, was not immune to Thor’s enthusiastic celebrating and persuading, drinking more than Sif could remember witnessing in at least a century. She was also pleasantly reminded of one of the reasons that Loki typically refrained from engaging in such drinking, particularly at court feasts, as he became rather…physical.

Throughout the evening Sif couldn’t help but grin, witnessing his self-control slowly erode from where she sat next to him on a long log. Sif began to ponder if he meant to out them to his brother in such a manner, resting his hand briefly on the nape of her neck, his thumb brushing against her soft skin, reaching over to brush a stray lock of hair that had fallen loose from her smooth ponytail away from her rosy face, and his constant, rather unsubtle leering. Luckily, his actions seemed to go unnoticed by the merriment of their friends.

And Thor was the merriest of all that evening, regaling his friends with rousing tales of his glory (most of which they had all been present for and were greatly embellished), singing loudly and telling crude, bawdy jokes. They had all indulged him, cheering his stories, refilling his cup, joining in an off-key chorus, and toasting in his honor. When he nearly fell into the fire for the fourth time, Volstagg and Hogun took Thor under his arms and practically dragged his impressive form away from the circle and deposited him into his own tent.

Though not nearly as drunk as the Thunderer, it was obvious that his friends had drank enough for one night as Volstagg stumbled clumsily into his own tent with hardly a dismissive wave of a hand sent towards those still seated around the fire. Hogun briefly rejoined the party, but at Sif’s happy suggestion that they all take up their cups again, he had turned slightly green in the face and left the fire without a word, much to her glee. Not long after, Fandral practically crawled on his hands and knees to his tent, sending Sif into a fit of giggles.

That left Loki and Sif alone next to the dying fire. Nearly as soon as the flap to Fandral’s tent fluttered closed Loki lurched towards Sif. Grasping her hand, he yanked her towards himself, sending her stein crashing to the ground. Sif let her loose limbed body slide across the smooth log to his side, laughing again. Though he chuckled too, there was more than simple amusement painting his features. With one look at the desire darkening his gaze Sif wasted no time climbing into his lap.

Sif’s drunk lips crashed down against his own. Their kisses were messy, interspersed with giggling and half-hearted attempts at hushing each other. Clumsy hands slid over and under the fabric of soft clothing in slightly uncoordinated caresses, groping and squeezing as if they were 300 years younger and this was their first, thrilling adolescent encounter. Sif smiled, Loki’s mouth kissing and sucking at her neck in a way that was sure to leave a mark. Her head buzzed and she felt her body grow hot under his hands even with the diminishing fire at her back. She yanked his head back and kissed him with abandon. 

Foggily, Sif hoped that if her friends were listening, they would dismiss the sounds of laughter as nothing more than participation in a friendly drinking game between the two or something equally innocent. Those thoughts were soon chased from her mind when Loki not-so-innocently tilted his hips up into her own, allowing her to feel the hard length of him. She answered by rocking herself down against him in kind.

At that, Loki surged upwards causing Sif to let out a surprised whoop and lock her arms and legs around him. He stumbled them across the circle of tents, swaying frightfully close to the dying fire, until he delivered them into her tent.

Laughing in surprise, Loki tumbled her back onto the furs covering her sleeping mat. Her hands managed to pull her deep red tunic over her head with only slight difficulty. Her pants proved to be trickier, and she rolled and wriggled in amusement on the ground until she could toss them to the side.

Sif continued to snicker, watching Loki teeter dangerously on one foot above her while attempting to pull off his boots and trousers. He grinned down at her, once free from his own clothing and wasted no time moving to cover her frame with his own.

Sif delighted at the press of his body against hers, his lips and tongue and hands sliding over her sensitive skin. Her unending giggles soon bled into long moans.

In her haze, it crossed her mind that perhaps she should monitor her volume, muffle her cries of pleasure. Maybe that was how she had ended up with her face pressed into the soft furs of her bedding, though she could not specifically recall positioning herself thus, on her knees with her rear raised. She was not alarmed; however, as all that mattered to her was the press of Loki’s hips against her and the slick slide of his length within her. She twisted her fingers into her blanket and rocked back against him. It all felt good, so very good. 

Her head felt heavy but she turned it slightly until she could see the shadow of Loki moving behind her, his hands on her hips. She bit her swollen lip, attempting to silence her whimpers. Slowly, Sif released the furs and sent one hand down her stomach to the apex between her thighs. The clumsy circles her fingers worked in made her hips buck and she found that she could no longer stifle the moans that poured from her lips. Loki too groaned, gripping her hip tighter. He snaked one of his own hands around to her stomach, following her path between her legs. Loki’s graceful fingers covered her own, mirroring her movements and adding delicious pressure. Her vocalizations grew louder and more high pitched. She desperately cried out his name, cursing and moaning into her bedding.

Loki suddenly fell forward, his body covering hers and his hips moving deeper and more deliberately. He pressed hot, messy kisses to her spine, her shoulder, her neck as he drove into her hard and strong, one arm braced against the ground and the other still wrapped around her hip, teasing.

A string of whimpered pleas ran from Sif’s lips. She wanted to beg him not to stop, tell him to take her harder, but she wasn’t sure if she was forming coherent words any longer. Her body tensed, and she could feel her release nearing. Loki’s warm breath played across her skin and he repeated her name over and over, his whispered breath catching. Loki came with a strangled groan, his face pressed into the warrior’s shoulder.

Quickly, he lifted himself upright onto his knees, pulling Sif up after him. Both of his lean arms encircled her, one hand caressing her breasts while the other batted her own hands away from her center. Long fingers moved in sloppy, frantic circles against her. Sif threw her heavy head back in pleasure, letting it fall against his shoulder. Loki’s mouth was on her neck and Sif reached one arm up around his head, sliding her fingers into his loose hair and holding his face to her. Her body writhed against his touch as she rushed towards climax, moaning his name. Loki slid his free hand up the expanse of her neck until he covered her mouth with a firm press of his palm, attempting to soften her cries. Rough whispers fell into her ear, encouraging, praising, begging. Her arousal spiked impossibly higher at the dark, low sound of his voice and all sensation seemed to melt together. Sif’s orgasm overtook her in a blinding flash. All pretense of keeping quiet was gone at that point and Sif cried out from behind his hand, long and loud, clutching at Loki’s dark hair.

Her body spent, Sif collapsed forward against her mat. Loki settled next to her, breathing just as heavily. Her body still hummed in pleasure and her head spun, feeling wonderfully light. The erratic drumming of her heart was soon answered by a loud rumbling coming from across the camp. Loki’s hand, which was tracing soothing patterns across the skin of her back, froze.

“Oh, _honestly!_ ” The exasperated shout came from their right, Fandral’s tent. “Will we have no peace this entire night?”

Sif fought hard, but could not repress the giggles that resurfaced. Between Thor’s thunderous snores and their rather obvious coupling, Sif doubted the Warriors Three had slept a wink. Sif snorted loudly.

“Ugh, shameless!” Fandral exclaimed again in disgust.

At that, Loki joined Sif in her fit of delirious laughter, holding each other’s shaking forms until happiness and alcohol carried them into contented sleep.


End file.
